Addicted
by MeredithGreyPotter1
Summary: Season Four, MerDer. Derek is addicted to Meredith, and Meredith to Derek, but she won't admit it. What happens when one day Meredith's love for Derek is tested, as Derek's love for Meredith is constantly being tested? Rated T for mild sexual references.


_**Disclaimer: If I owned the show, this was how Derek's addiction to Meredith would be handled. But I don't see that happening anytime soon. **_

_**A/N: Yes, I am still working on my other fics. But a one shot is much less time consuming than writing regular chapters for three fics. So my apologies for all of my readers who have been waiting patiently, or perhaps not so patiently, for updates. Thank you to those of you who have not abandoned me, you mean the world to me. **_

_**Please note that this story takes place starting from last night's episode to around what would be considered episode nine or ten of the Season. Listen to Kelly Clarkson's addicted during it, I strongly recommend you do!**_

_**Enjoy, and please, please review! **_

I, Derek Shepherd, am addicted to Meredith Grey.

I have been since that night in the bar. I looked at the door when the bell jingled, and in walked this incredibly sexy, slender blonde. There was something about her and I couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe it was the way her black dress clung to her subtly swinging hips. Maybe it was the way her face and her smiles had this… light to them. Or maybe it was her voice, or her laugh… whatever it was, I was hooked from the start. I couldn't help myself. I knew I needed to have her in one way or another that night.

One year later, and after all the hell we've been put through, those same things still manage to hold my heart captive, just with more details. Her laugh is musical, and her blonde hair smells like lavender. Everything clings to her body, even her scrubs, with only the obvious exceptions such as my clothes that she likes to wear to bed.

Liked I suppose is the word I should be using. Because Meredith and I have been broken up for awhile now, technically ever since she subtly tried to send me a message at Burke and Cristina's wedding. Except for the fact that every night I have her beneath me, usually in her bed, screaming and moaning and crying out for me, and every day I have her pushed against the walls of supply closets or on call room doors, trying her best to keep her passion in check, sometimes biting down against me to make sure we're not heard.

Breakup sex… it's absolutely amazing to still be able to touch her, to taste her, and to be inside of her, but the truth is… it's breaking my heart.

I love her. I love her in such an incredible way it scares me sometimes. I know she thinks she's the scared one, but never have I ever loved someone this much. Addison was my wife for ten years. Ten years because the last year was when things really started to fall apart, and there was no way in hell anyone could call that a marriage, even if she hadn't technically had the affair until the later part of that last year.

This might sound horrible, but if it had been my wife of ten years who had drowned in the Elliot Bay, I can't say I would have been as scared. Sure, I would have been worried sick, pacing hallways, yelling obscenities and staying by her side every minute of every day if and after they managed to revive her… but after that, things would have been normal. Because Addison didn't have the issues that Meredith had. It wouldn't have even occurred to me for one second that Addison hadn't tried to swim.

And now, to love someone this much, it's unimaginable… and sometimes it hurts. It hurts more now than anything, because when she kicks me out of her bed at night, not only do I see the small flash of pain behind her otherwise calm and carefree eyes, eyes that tell me to leave now, it's for the best, but I also spend my nights alone, wishing she was there beside me. I don't know if I can keep up with the sex and the mockery. The sex is amazing and the mockery… it's comfortable. Kind of like how we were before Addison, but I don't know if I can live, knowing that's all she can give me.

Part of me is willing to wait it out; she has to love me too, doesn't she? She once told me that she loved me in a really, really big, pretend to like my taste in music, let me eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over her head outside my window, unfortunate way that makes her hate me, love me. She begged me to pick her, choose her, and love her. I admit it, I didn't, and that will be the one biggest regret of my life. I could have had an entire year of falling asleep with my tiny, blonde girlfriend, instead of leaving my tiny, blonde ex-girlfriend's bed every night.

I know she still loves me… but she doesn't know how to have this. Everything I said to Mark that day in the scrub room is true. A part of me hates Thatcher Grey a little bit more than I did when I saw him slap her across the face, and I honestly thought that was impossible. But he broke the woman I love so completely, that if it weren't for the fact that it was completely against the law, I would literally break him in half with my bare hands. Believe me when I say this; hell hath no fury like that of Derek Shepherd.

I, Derek Shepherd, am addicted to Meredith Grey. The tiny blonde, with ineffectual fists, who has managed to capture my heart.

And I don't know how to quit her.

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The breakup sex, or should I say secret breakup sex has been going on for quite a few weeks now. Sometimes, just when I think she's about to crack and let me spend the night with her, panic flits across her face and the next thing I know, I'm out of her bed, pulling my clothes on, and then I'm out the door.

This particular night she doesn't need to tell me to leave.

As soon as I catch my breath and look at the clock, I know that it is time for me to go home. I push the covers off my body and roll out of bed, reaching for my boxer-briefs.

"Where are… you're leaving already?" she asked, her voice slightly raspy and breathy; she hasn't quite recovered from our most recent round it seems.

She changes the question, hoping I don't notice. For one moment she had been asking where I was going, as if it were usual for me to stay in her bed every night. Even her second question was somewhat ridiculous. I always go home at some point between three and four in the morning, otherwise I'd be spending the night with her; apparently that counts as sleeping over, even if what we were doing could not be called sleep by anyone.

I give her a small smile as I get up to pull my jeans on. "It's time for me to go. I have to get down to the bank in a few hours before my shift starts anyway," I say.

"Oh… okay," she says quietly. She rolls onto her side and watches me continue to get ready. "What time do you want to meet up?"

I don't need to ask what she means. Every morning we manage to meet up somewhere… on call room, supply closet, stairwell, elevator… yes, we have frequented the stairwell and the elevator. I can't say that the thrill isn't amazing.

"I don't know. The bank likes to waste my time, and whenever I go there, no one's ever handy to talk to me," I say with distaste.

It was true, whenever I had business to take care of that didn't require talking to someone behind a plate of glass, I was usually stuck in the dreary building for eons.

"Do me a favor, if I'm not there by nine, tell the Chief to push my electives, pawn the other's off on someone else," I instruct her as I pull my jacket on. She nods; the only time she will ever allow me to cross the S & M line is when it's work related and she knows I have no other choice.

"I will," she says with a sigh, her eyes drooping a little. I give her a faint smile before bending down, pressing my lips to hers. I smooth the hair back from her forehead, running my thumb along the hair line as I slip my tongue into her mouth, tasting her one last time before I leave. We're not a couple but we can't manage to leave each other at any one time without kissing the other goodbye.

I pull back finally, and she looks at me, slightly breathless.

"Page me when you get in tomorrow," she says softly. I nod and with that, I turn to leave.

The next morning… or maybe it's the same morning… I drive to the bank, and sure enough, I have the wait from hell.

Could my life get any better? The love of my life is currently only allowing me to screw her senseless whenever she feels like it, I have no one to talk to, work is absolutely crazy and as usual I can't even get out of the bank on time. Anyone who has ever been stuck in the bank for hours on end will understand my pain.

And then, the most _perfect thing ever_ happens.

I'm about to talk to someone, to _finally_ talk to someone…

There's a crash outside. There are five cars minimum, and that's if we're lucky. Being the doctor that I am, I have to get involved.

The bank can wait; they made me wait long enough, it's time to return the favor.

I get outside and do my job, checking the injured and telling the paramedics arrive who to take where. I send most to Mercy West; it's closer. But the more difficult cases I send to Seattle Grace, not out of personal bias but because we do have some of the best doctors there. There are a lot of general and orthopedic injuries; Torres, Bailey and the Chief are going to have a fun time. I come across a few people who clearly have some sort of injury to their brain; one person's left pupil is blown and I put a rush on to get him to Grace.

Three hours of confusion later and I can finally leave. I still haven't talked with the bank, but there are lives at stake.

I arrive at the hospital, chaos all around me, as I had known there would be. People are yelling for me, glad that I'm finally here. I can't stop to be with them at the moment though; not only can I not decide which one I would go to first, I have a patient to check on, the one that I had put a rush on, and there are really plenty of other neurosurgeons there to check on those patients. If help is needed, I can and will provide it, but for the moment my staff will suffice.

All of a sudden my eyes land on a very pale, very frail and a very scared blonde figure. She had been ordering her interns around, but her voice wasn't the same. It shook and she stuttered, which wasn't unusual for Meredith, but usually she could contain herself at work. Right now, she was a scared mess; a cracked teapot that would shatter if the wind blew too hard.

Her eyes turned in my direction and she looked away before they snapped back to me as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. I saw it in her eyes; fear, pain, anguish, relief… love.

The next thing I knew, that same tiny blonde figure that was Meredith Grey, was hurtling towards me, flinging her arms around my neck, her face buried in the crook between my neck and my shoulder. My arms wrap around her, holding her close on instinct, and her entire body shakes as her breathing quickens, and I realize that she's crying.

"I thought… I thought… I didn't… you weren't…" she says these broken starts to sentences in quick succession; my brow creases with concern and pain, pain that I have caused her to worry. It's funny, after all the misery she's blindly put me through for the past few weeks, I could care less about that now. All that matters is making the woman in my arms feel better.

I feel breath in my ear and a hand on my shoulder.

"She was asking where you were when you weren't here. She pushed your surgeries for you at nine and ever since then she's been a nervous wreck," Mark said in a low voice.

I nodded and swore softly to myself as I began to put the pieces together. She had of course known I'd been going to the bank. There was an accident, and there was no way she could have known that I was safe, that I was inside, already there, not one of the cars driving in the street that had gotten hit. Mercy was closest, so why would I be wheeled into Grace if I was injured? If she had called Mercy she would have found out that there was no Derek Shepherd there, but that didn't mean that I wasn't there, it could have meant that they didn't know my name. Though I thought that everyone knew Derek Shepherd, I realize that not everyone knows what Derek Shepherd looks like.

Her shaking shoulders start to lessen, but she is still crying; I can feel the tears from her eyes sliding down my neck. My hand runs up and down her back and I press several kisses to the top of her blonde, lavender-scented head.

"It's okay, Mer, I'm right here," I murmur softly to her, over and over again in a low, calming voice. "It's okay… I'm not going anywhere."

Except that's a lie. I have a surgery to get to. As much as it's breaking my heart to do so, I have to let go of her. She seems to know this and she pulls back, looking at me. Her eyes are red and puffy, tears still swimming in them. She sniffles a little and wipes at the tears that have stained her cheeks. She doesn't say anything; her eyes speak volumes. I kiss her forehead quickly and stroke her cheek before reluctantly breaking away and going to change and get ready for surgery.

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It's late at night when I'm finally out of surgery. I had done three, and they'd been long, but extremely successful. Now the only thing I could concentrate on was finding Meredith.

I wandered the halls, asking nurses and other doctors if they had seen her. I checked on call rooms and supply closets and stairwells; I even rode several elevators in hopes that I would find her eventually.

I was worried by now, but I knew she wouldn't be far. I went outside and looked around the hospital grounds. The benches were empty so I started to wander down the main building; I knew that she and her friends liked to hang out there occasionally, sitting on the windows or even just leaning against the wall.

And there I found her.

She was sitting on the window, as I had expected. She was still in scrubs, even though I knew her shift was over by now. I walked up to her, stopping when I was near the window.

"Hey," I said quietly. She looked towards me and for a moment she was silent. Finally, she scooted forward before falling to the ground, landing on her feet. She walked up to me, our bodies inches apart. I looked into her eyes, and for one of the first times ever, I couldn't read them. Slowly her face began to crumple and tears welled in the corners. Her lips pressed together and the next thing I knew, she was hitting me on the chest, pounding on it with her fists.

Tiny and ineffectual… that was what they were supposed to be. At some point they had become stronger, and now… _now_ they hurt.

"You… ass!" she exclaimed with a hiss, tears in her voice. "You completely selfish ass!"

I moved back in attempt to get her to stop but she followed me, pressing me against the wall and continuing to beat my chest with her hands. "You could have… called or paged or let the nurses know or done… something! Do you realize how many people were wondering where you were? Did you even think about your job? Chief was ready to fire you, you were so late!" she exclaimed, slapping my chest, pausing her onslaught of tiny pounding hammers.

She looked at me, her breathing heavy. I looked into her eyes and read them; her words were far from the truth. I knew for a fact that Richard hadn't been about to fire me, and while I knew that quite a few people had been wondering where I was, I knew that none of them had been wondering quite like her, not even Mark.

Suddenly her lips were on mine, hard and insistent. My hand went to the back of her head, tangling its fingers in her hair, my other hand on her lower back, pulling her close. Our tongues dueled for several moments, not caring who saw us. Finally we broke it for air. Her lips were swollen as I'm sure mine were too. She sniffled a little and pain washed over her face. "Ass," she whispered in a shaky voice.

I pulled her close, letting her head rest against my chest. She sobbed quietly, clutching to me as if her life depended on it, and in that moment I wondered if perhaps it did.

"You can't leave me," she choked out. For a brief moment I wondered if she was stating the obvious fact, that I actually couldn't leave her. I soon realized that she was begging me not to. That she was scared of me leaving her in one way or another. I sighed and pressed another kiss to the top of her head. Didn't she see? Didn't she understand?

I can't leave her.

I _really_ wanted to murder Thatcher Grey.

I stroked her hair in a steady, slow rhythm, calming her slightly.

"I'm not your father, Meredith," I said quietly. She stayed silent and I took that as my cue to continue.

"I'm not your father. I've said it at least twice before, and I think my actions have made it clear that I cannot leave you. I will always show up. I will never walk away if I can help it, and I will fight tooth and nail to make sure that I never leave you… not completely. I can't Meredith. If you died and I was left here on earth, I might as well be dead. If I died and left you here alone, not only would I never forgive myself, I'd feel… well, as if I might as well be dead. Which I would be, but that's not the point," I said, allowing humor to seep into my voice. I'm rewarded with a small giggle and I smile softly before continuing.

"I can't live without you, Mer. Anyway it happens, if I'm separated from you… it's like I can't breathe. Without you I'm nothing."

I'm fully aware of just how corny that sounds, but I'll let it slide.

"I love you, Meredith. I know you think that I can't and shouldn't, but I do. I have never stopped, and I don't think I ever will. You're it for me. And right now, this thing that we're doing… it's enough but it's not. I would be lost if I didn't get to have you in one way or another, but at the same time, I can't be with you and not be loved back in the same way. That night that Mark spoke to you… he told you I was with a patient, it was a lie. I was trying to quit you. I'm addicted to you, Mer," I explain to her, softly, pleading with her to understand just how much I love her.

"So for right now… if this is what you can handle, I'll do it. Sex and mockery, that's all it has to be, but when you're ready… when you're ready, I'll be waiting."

She stays silent, leaning against me, not moving. Her chest is rising and falling in a slow steady rhythm against mine, and for a moment I wonder if she's asleep. I'm about to speak again before her voice breaks the silence.

"Stay with me tonight," she says softly… questioning and ordering at the same time.

Relief fills me and a ridiculous smile stretches across my face. My hand slips under her chin and I tilt her mouth up before giving her a deep, sweet kiss.

Those four words told me everything I needed. Over time I knew it would get better. Over time I knew she would start to communicate better, not that communicating that she had done the day that I told her I didn't want to breathe for her anymore. Over time she'd let me in bit by bit.

I knew this, because by saying those four words she had told me everything I needed to hear. We would have the time for her to communicate and for her to let me in.

Those four words told me that not only was I, Derek Shepherd, addicted to Meredith Grey, but that she, Meredith Grey, was addicted to me.

And neither one of us ever wanted to quit.

_It's like I can't breathe  
It's like I can't see anything  
Nothing but you  
I'm addicted to you  
It's like I can't think  
Without you interrupting me  
In my thoughts  
In my dreams  
You've taken over me  
It's like I'm not me  
It's like I'm not me_

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_**Thank you so much for reading! I worked hard on this story… the idea has been formulating in my head for the past week or so, and I just needed to write it. **_

_**I don't think I have much to say… if I do, I'll come in and edit it. Please, please review! I'm really looking forward to see what you think. I'm sure I messed up with some shift in time rules, but I'm too tired to think straight and too eager to correct them right now… please, over look them for now if you can. I appreciate it. **_

_**Thanks again for reading and please review!**_

_**Ta-ta for now!**_


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